


Primogeniture

by jury



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Ending, Biting, Bondage, Chains, Choking on a Dick, Coercion, Collars, Emotional Manipulation, Fantasy, Forced Orgasm, Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Royalty, Sex Magic, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16053770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jury/pseuds/jury
Summary: When a bastard prince comes to claim the throne, he finds he's been misinformed about what he has to do to get it.





	Primogeniture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> Thanks so much to my invaluable beta, El.

Alstin could see the throne clear from the other side of the room. It was built high on black stone and dark glass, with gold-painted runes and charms gleaming against the dim light. The hall was so filled with people that he had to employ elbows and shoulders to make his way towards the obelisk of the throne. Instead of the straight shot he had imagined, the room was thick with bodies, men and women crowded from wall to wall, pressed together. The sound of conversation bounced sharply off the stone walls and ceiling, laughter smarting against his ears. Even so, it did afford him the advantage of being able to make his way through the crowd almost unnoticed, although his sword banged on thighs and calves. Every now and then the crowd would part and he would catch a glimpse of bare flesh from the corner of his eye, but people would fill the gap and he would be spared. The air was hazy and smelled like overripe, split-skin peaches and fucking, and Alstin had to keep his gaze fixed high to keep the blood out of his cheeks. None of that mattered. 

He was above such earthly pleasures — Mother had never allowed him to think about them. Anyway, he'd never had time, with how she'd drilled into him the important things, like diplomacy, languages and the sword. Those were things that were needful, not what — whatever was provoking the wet gasps behind him. He kept pushing through the crowd until it spat him out, stumbling to his knees at the base of the steps to the throne.

He had always imagined it would be a dramatic moment where the music would stop and everyone in the room would turn to him, his voice ringing loud and clear while he spoke of righteous fire and everyone stood in raptures. What happened, though, was he stood there, and everyone ignored him. It wasn't right — a king should sit straight-backed and proud above his subjects, a beacon of discipline to them all, not sit half-slouched with his legs parted obscenely, one of them hooked over the arm of the throne, holding a goblet so precariously that his fingers were red with wine.

Merique wasn't anything like he had imagined, either. Mother had two portraits of the king: the first, a small, hand-painted thing in a locket, a man with dark, stern eyes and a sharp chin covered by a neatly trimmed beard. That had never scared him, but the second portrait — the one she painted with words had. Alstin had always imagined his progeny to be much the same, his brother, his shadow counterpart, training every day to be king, ruling with the iron fist that had given Mother her scars. Merique didn't even look up until Alstin drew his sword and brought it down against the stone, the sound ringing loud even above the music, which _still_ didn't come to a halt, but quietened a little, one or two of the instruments fading out. When he did look down upon Alstin, it was with one black brow crooked and a look so beatific Alstin began to feel like a child caught making a mess. Seeing his face looking down reminded him so much of the painted portrait had had to take half a step back. The same sharp chin, this one unbearded, the same dark eyes, although they were more amused than stern.

"Yes?" Merique said, and there was no courtly grace in his speech — he didn't even sit up. 

"My name is — "

"Hold on a moment," Merique said, and he sat up, pulling his legs together and putting the goblet on the edge of the step, but didn't turn until he had licked his fingers clean. "Who are you?"

Alstin could feel his face burning red, but he pointed the sword up towards the throne and tried to summon the words he had spent so long repeating. "My name is Alstin. I'm your brother and the true heir to the throne." Well, that wasn't — there had been no passion. He had always thought speaking the truth would carry some kind of immutable power, but it just fell flat, dying quietly on a bed of murmurs.

"Brother?" Merique said, and then he did narrow his eyes in an inquiring way. "Well, I suppose that's fair enough." He took the golden crown off his head and spun it lazily on a finger, before throwing it down toward Alstin. It landed on the step between them with a discordant crash. "Take it, then."

Alstin made a reflexive movement towards the crown, and was halted by the ripple of laughter spreading through the crowd. Merique was part of it, lips quirking as he stepped down and scooped it from the ground in one smooth movement, placing it upon Alstin's head. The scant weight of it was barely enough to stir his curls. Merique took him by the shoulders and turned him, quickly, ignoring his stumbles. "Behold," he said, voice booming, "The new king." People laughed or made mocking bows or simply didn't turn at all, and Alstin's cheeks flushed, face heating red. Merique's clutching fingers on his shoulders burned through his shirt, the touch feeling aberant. Alstin couldn't remember the last time anyone besides Mother had touched him, and that had always been perfunctory: adjusting his stance, fixing his grip on his sword. Merique had no hesitation, his palms flat against his arm, and it was making Alstin's stomach clench. What had Mother taught him? To turn and break Merique's arm, but that wouldn't do in front of each pair of glittering eyes looking up at him and pinning him back like he was a bug on a card. Anger flared, colling in his gut, but he pressed it back down. People would turn to his edict when he was king, not whatever Merique had instituted. 

Merique bent closer, brushing the hair back from Alstin's ear, his lips grazing against the shell. "Of course, your majesty, there's still the matter of the trial." Sound faded away, until all he could hear was the lilt of Merique's voice, feel the side of his thumb dragging against Alstin's neck, and he could smell something, the scent growing until it was overwhelming. He jerked away from Merique, who laughed, and straightened up to his full height. Alstin wiped his face with his hand, pushing his hair back from his face. 

"She warned me about you."

"Who?" 

"My mother," he said.

"Ah," Merique said, and he looked intrigued. "And what, exactly, did she tell you? Was it flattering?"

Alstin's tongue tripped. "You think she warned me about you in a flattering way?"

"It's possible," Merique said. "People often warn each other about my best traits."

"She told me not to trust you," Alstin said, slowly, wondering if he was revealing a vulnerability, but Merique looked so genuinely interested to hear about himself that he couldn't tell. He frowned, thinking back to each evening by the fire, his mother talking in hushed tones and glancing up at the window between each sentence. "And not to drink anything you give me."

"Well," Merique said, "that's just common sense." A beat passed, Merique looking down on him like he expected Alstin to laugh, which he did not. "And did she neglect to tell you of our laws? Of your trial?"

"There's no trial," Alstin said, and the air was pungent, creeping around him with a faintly-familiar smell. "You're making it up." 

"I never lie," Merique said. 

"I have the crown," Alstin said, and couldn't stop reaching up to make sure it was true, fingers encountering the edge of it. It had felt light when Merique had put it on his head, but now it was growing heavier and larger, bowing his neck and slipping down over his head. He struggled to push it back up, until it was large enough to rest against his shoulders. It began to tighten, then, metal scraping closer and closer until it had seized upon his neck. He tried to hook a finger under it, but it was flush against his skin, holding his head high and turning his breath into a shallow pant.

"I suppose you do," Merique said, "but a king must humble himself before his subjects before he can rule them."

Alstin recognised the scent now — it was sweetmint, like the kind that grew in the forest and emitted the same, overpowering scent when it was crushed underfoot. Something Merique was doing was making that scent, and it was carried on cold, aromatic air that stole under Alstin’s cuffs and down his neck, curling across his skin until it changed from a breeze to a gust, pulling his clothes away and leaving him shivering and naked on the steps — naked apart from the collar around his neck. Something cold and metal slivered down his back and he jumped away from it. It was a thin metal chain — almost thin enough to be a thread. He seized upon it, tried to break it, but it resisted his every move, serving only to bite into the flesh of his hands. 

"Don't hurt yourself," Merique said, pulling on the chain, hard. Alstin stumbled forward, choking against the pressure of the collar. He scratched at his neck with one hand, trying to preserve his modesty with the other. 

"Now, now," Merique said. "There's no need for that." He took Alstin by the wrists, pulling them towards him. His grip was strong and unrelenting, grinding the bones together. 

"Let me go," Alstin said, and to his shame his voice cracked. No matter how he struggled, Merique's grip could not be broken. Alstin struggled anyway, until he was gasping wetly, trying to catch his breath past the collar.

"No," Merique said. "Your trial isn't over. It's barely begun. Are you a whelp or a king?"

He didn't wish to show Merique his words had affected him. Alstin tried to straighten his back, act like the chill of the air against his skin wasn't drawing goosebumps to the surface, like his nipples weren't peaking from it. The only warm thing against his flesh was Merique's grip against his wrists. "Release me," Alstin said, trying to will authority into his tone. "Release me."

"No," Merique said.

"You've turned this palace into a whorehouse," Alstin said. "The gods have turned away — "

Merique laughed and released Alstin's wrists, which fell down to his sides like they were weighted. "Is that what your mother told you?" 

"You've corrupted the rites — "

"I can guarantee," Merique said, "that — "

" — befouled this place, broken every law — "

" — _she_ knew about the trial."

Alstin's fervour died in his throat. "Liar," he said. He only caught a fragment of the movement before Merique slapped him, the sudden, smarting pain silencing him.

"No more talking," he said, wrapping the chain around his wrist until it formed a shining cuff. "You might find yourself enjoying the trial. I know I did mine."

"Never," Alstin said, and braced himself for another slap. It didn't come; Merique quirked an eyebrow instead. 

"I'll help you," he said. "All you have to do is ask."

"I don't want anything from you," Alstin said, setting his jaw. He could handle anything Merique wanted him to do. He could fight without armour — without a sword, if he had to — or endure any kind of torture; all he had to do to remain strong was remember why he was here.

"Not yet," Merique said. "But you will." He was still standing above Alstin and reached out, pulling the chain hard enough that Alstin had to sway forward to avoid being choked. Merique grabbed the back of his hair and pulled, tilting his face up. "I didn't know I had any brothers left I hadn't fucked." 

Alstin recoiled, but Merique's grip was too firm. "You came at the right time," Merique said, turning Alstin's head this way and that. "I suppose she told you to wait until the sun went down." He leaned down and kissed Alstin on the mouth, hard, hard enough that he could feel the pressure of Merique's teeth beyond his lips. His hot tongue swept Alstin's bottom lip, questing for entry. Alstin pulled his head back, unable to find any leverage, but Merique broke the kiss when it became clear enough he was being denied. 

"Don't worry," he said. " _I_ won't fuck you until you ask for it." Then he stepped down off his step and pushed into the crowd, the silver chain unfurling in his wake. Alstin seized on his end and tried to pull back on it and at first it was slack, but then it twisted and went taut, forcing him to follow Merique's path. 

He entered into the clutch of bodies pressed together, the collar tugging him along. At first people seemed to ignore him, but then, as he pushed his way through, he began to feel eyes upon him, hear people whispering as he passed by. The chain seemed unending, winding around groups of people. Alstin was sure he had been through here on his way in, but the crowd seemed endless, stretching back to where it disappeared in the smoke and haze. The door had been closer, hadn't it? Hadn't he been able to see the throne from where he entered? 

The sounds around him were the same, people talking, laughing, but there was an undercurrent he couldn't place — or didn't want to. There was a naked woman under a man — he looked away, tried to keep his eyes high. She was — they were — and he was naked too, the flush on his cheeks. Mother had always impressed upon him that he was different, and he was above such base lusts. Merique had done this to these people, removed them from the rites and desecrated the palace. Mother had told him about sun-glowing white walls, floors that you could see yourself in, not this, not this licentious place. He would pass the trial, and then burn the hall away and replace it with what she had always described. The idea spurred him on. 

Now his boots were off, he could tell the floor was carpeted with thick, faintly damp moss, interposed with starry dots of white flowers, their petals being crushed under feet. But there was no time to linger as the chain pulled him along, until he was finally ejected from the crowd, toe to toe with Merique in an alcove away from the hubbub.

"Took your time," Merique said. "Did you find someone to linger with?"

"No," Alstin snapped. "Just tell me what you want me to do — who you want me to fight so I can get it over with."

"Fight?" Merique said, raising an eyebrow.

"You said it was a trial — a test."

"It is."

"Then give me back my clothes and get me a sword," Alstin said. "I've been training my whole life for this."

Merique chuckled. "If only that were true."

"Just tell me what you want me to do," Alstin said, one hand grabbing at the join of the chain to the collar, the other creeping up to the bruise forming on his jaw.

"Yes," Merique said. "Get on your knees." 

"No," Alstin said.

"It wasn't a request," Merique said. "Kneel." This time the command was laced with the sweetmint, coiling around his shoulders and _forcing_ him down, his knees hitting hard on the stone, the jar of it reverberating up his bones and into his spine. He could feel the rawness of an unformed bruise blooming on his flesh. The sweetmint was like a second chain, curling around his flesh. 

Merique stepped behind him, his hand following the trail, but his fingertips were warm, just brushing against Alstin’s skin. "That's better," he said. "It's not like I want you to be hurt, you know."

"Let me — "

"Don't ask again," Merique said, voice firm. His hand reached around and tipped Alstin's head up, until the divan tucked into the corner of the wall came into view, and the man reclining on it, face covered by a mask in the shape of half a butterfly wing, the edges glinting in the light. Merique's hand came down to the small of his back as he half-crouched over Alstin, his shadow blocking the light. 

" _Why_?"

"You need to understand," Merique said, voice low and directly into Alstin's ear. "You came here. Anything that happens now is a consequence of your actions."

"I didn't — "

"That doesn't matter," he said. He pulled on the chain until Alstin was forced to walk on his knees, right up to the legs of the man on the divan, who opened his eyes lazily. They skated over Alstin's face, but lingered on his body until he began to flush, the heat of it creeping across his face. 

"Merique," the man said, and his voice was tinged with sleep, as if anyone could find any peace beyond the raucous sound of the music and talking, the sounds of glass on glass and the thump of feet against the ground. "What's that?"

"My brother," Merique said, from behind Alstin, and although he couldn't see, Alstin could hear the teeth in his voice.

"Another one?"

"A new one," Merique said. 

"Does this one know how to suck cock?" the man said.

"I don't know," Merique replied. "Do you want to ask or should we just find out?"

"What's the fun in asking?" the man said.

"I don't — " Alstin said.

"I don't care," Merique said, and tangled his hand in the back of Alstin's hair, forming a painful fist that pulled against his scalp. "Are you going to be good to Pasis?"

"Anything you put in my mouth I'll bite," Alstin said, gritting his teeth.

"No, you won't," Merique said. "Not if you don't want to fail your trial." Then, quickly, before Alstin could react to what was happening, Pasis was freeing his cock and Merique was pushing Alstin forward until his lips were brushing against the head. He struggled back, but the sweetmint and the chain were restraining him, not to mention Merique's hand on the back of his head. The head of the cock was hot against his lips, wetting them faintly, resting against his bottom lip. He tried to turn his head, but found he wasn't able, the pressure on his mouth increasing until he had to open it, Pasis' cock pushing in, sliding against his tongue. He tried to pull back, but Merique wouldn't let him, sliding down until his chest was pressed against Alstin's back, his hand pushing him further down until Pasis' cock was sliding deeper into his mouth while he struggled against it. The unexpected weight and heat of it took him by surprise, forcing him to breathe through his nose. 

"Very good," Merique said, his lips brushing against the shell of Alstin's ear. "So you have done this before." Alstin tried to say _I haven't_ , but it came out like a strangled grunt — almost like a moan. He'd never even thought about it — or not in a way he wouldn't deny. The only person he had touched was himself, and always quickly, always with an overwhelming aftershock of shame. Merique chuckled against his ear and increased the pressure on the back of his head, forcing another inch of the cock into his mouth. "I thought I'd get the pleasure of teaching you to enjoy this, but I see that's not necessary." The idea of Merique taking any pleasure at all rankled him, his shoulders hunching forward, but it sent a spike of heat down to his stomach, and he wondered if Merique was trying to goad him or if he was hard, just from watching Pasis' cock disappear into Alstin's mouth. 

He felt bracketed by the heat of Merique's body behind him, his weight urging him forward, pressing him into Pasis. Alstin couldn't help looking up, and met Pasis' eyes looking down, alight with arousal as he rolled his hips, thrusting into Alstin's mouth. Pasis’ cock bumped against the back of his throat and Alstin choked, struggling for breath. But neither Pasis nor Merique took it as a sign to retreat; Pasis pulled back for almost a second before pushing back, creating a sliding rhythm across Alstin's tongue to the back of his throat, over and over again. Each time he couldn't help struggling against it, trying to close his throat, his mouth against the intrusion.

"You could be doing better," Merique said, lips moving against Alstin's ear. "Are you even trying?" He pulled Alstin back off Pasis's cock completely, and he gasped for air, unable to draw his eyes away from how it looked - how red and wet, pushed up against Pasis’ stomach. Alstin was panting for breath, his mouth feeling bruised, stinging at the corners. He bowed his head, but Merique raised it again. "Be diligent," he said. "Don't just hold it in your mouth. Pay attention." He gave Alstin's head a little shake like someone correcting a dog, and a wave of hot shame rolled over him. Alstin jerked back, tried to stand, but Merique pushed him back down, using all his weight to blanket across his shoulders and lean into him. "You were doing so well," he said. "Now, _pay attention_." 

Alstin's head was forced down towards Pasis again, his lips grazing across the tip of his cock. Pasis sighed, hips tilting forward, and Alstin balked, trying to rise again. Merique grabbed his chin and turned Alstin's face to him, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Do you want to be king, Alstin?" he said. His tone was cool, eyes narrowed. Alstin tried to twist out of his grip, wrench his eyes away. "Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Alstin nodded, just a twitch against Merique's palm. It was true — he wanted it more than anything. His heart was pounding in his chest, pulse running against the cool metal at his neck. Even so, Merique was warmer, pressed right against his back, the fabric of his clothes silky against Alstin's skin. 

"Haven't you woken up every morning thinking _I'll do anything_?" Another nod. Merique sneered. "Well, isn't this anything?"

Mother had always said nothing should be between him and the throne. Maybe this was what she had meant. Well, not _this_ — his cheeks flared with heat at the thought — but a trial, a test. He couldn't let it stand between him and the throne. He took a deep breath. He licked his lips, running his tongue over the dry skin. This time, when Merique turned his head down and pushed, he didn't resist, letting the pressure guide him until his lips met the head of Pasis' cock in a gentle kiss. It was too gentle, too intimate. Pasis had gone a little soft while Merique had been — talking to him, and Alstin didn't quite know what to do, glancing sidelong at Merique, who picked up on it immediately. Alstin wrenched his eyes away from the contact, dropping them back to the floor. He shouldn't need Merique's help with anything. 

"Lick it," Merique said, right into Alstin's ear. He shivered at the close contact, and ran his tongue over the head. It was hot, the taste of the fluid at the top like a shock to his mouth. "Pay attention to what he likes. _Try_ and do a good job." Alstin swallowed. He still hated it, but if he could somehow just view it as a _task_. 

He shuffled a little closer and Pasis reached down and directed his cock into Alstin's mouth again, the weight of it unexpected as he closed his lips around it, trying to think about what _he_ would like, brushing his tongue under the head. Pasis's hips jerked forward and Alstin gagged a little, swallowing through it. Merique's hand on the back of his head was insistent, but he tried to relax, tried to just let Merique push him forward until it hit the back of his throat and he choked. 

"Try harder," Merique said. "Haven't you ever had someone do this to you?" Alstin tried to answer, but it came as a moan. Merique pressed his hand to Alstin's stomach and he shivered. Pasis began to thrust, a shallow rhythm, cock pressing deeper with each beat. Alstin closed his eyes. He could tell by Pasis' breathing that he liked it when Alstin countered his rhythm with strokes of his tongue, hollowing his cheeks. 

Closing his eyes helped; he didn't have to look up at the man in front of him. It was easier to be disconnected. It was easier to pretend there wasn't something hypnotic about it, something _powerful_ about knowing he was the one provoking reactions from someone. His cock was half-hard against his thigh. He hoped Merique wouldn't notice.

"Where should I come?" Pasis said, voice strained. "In his mouth? On his face?"

"Not yet," Merique said. Pasis groaned. "Surely it's not _that_ good." Alstin felt a flare of pride and quashed it, quickly. There was nothing to be proud of. There was only the hope that no one would notice him or talk about him once he was on the throne. There was no reason to obey Merique beyond the mantle of royalty on his back, and when it was his — when it rightfully returned to Alstin, it would be Merique on his knees in front of the throne and Alstin would — he would make Merique hold his cock in his mouth just to keep it warm. Alstin's mouth was wet just thinking about it.

"It's not _him_ ," Pasis said, scornfully. "You know that."

Hot humiliation thrummed through him and he tried to recoil, but Merique's hand remained firm. He had thought — shame pooled in his gut. Alstin had thought he had been doing a good job, as perverse as that was. 

Merique reached up, scratching his nails across Pasis' inner thigh, curving his hand underneath his balls and further back. Pasis gasped, high and punched out, and came. It flooded into Alstin's mouth and he couldn't bring himself to swallow it. It filled his mouth instead and he struggled to withdraw until Merique finally let him, Pasis' come sliding out of his mouth and down his front. Merique curled his lip and moved away, letting him fall to the side while Pasis tucked his cock back into his pants. Alstin swallowed, then — he didn't know what else to do, and tried to wipe himself clean. Merique was standing, looking down, but Pasis was looking up at Merique from behind the shadow of his mask, and Alstin felt like he had just been a thing between them.

"It's a shame," Merique said. "If you'd done a good job, maybe that would have been your whole trial." Then he turned and walked back into the crowd, the silver chain unspooling in his wake, spilling out and then disappearing. Alstin struggled to his feet, gripping ungently at the edge of the divan to get upright. The corners of his mouth ached like they were bruised, and he could still feel the sharp impact of Merique's palm on his cheek. He made to follow, but Pasis grabbed his arm, the grasp hard enough to bruise, pulling Alstin down. 

"Be careful," he said, voice low, the syllables catching on his breath. 

"Be careful here?" Alstin said. Pasis sighed. It was the same as dealing with Merique. Pasis was just a conduit to mock him and appear as a friend at the same time. His hand ached for a sword or some weapon to strike out against him. No one could know that he had sucked Pasis' cock — that he had been made to. 

"Be careful _of him_ ," he said, and punctuated it with the hot slide of his tongue against the rim of Alstin's ear. "Don't end up like the other brothers."

"What — "

"Come back when you've learned something," Pasis said. "I'll let you try again." He released Alstin's arm and the chain pulled tight, yanking him into the crowd. This time his presence seemed to be forewarned, but instead of people parting, they closed around him, hands reaching out as he passed, fingers sliding across his arms, hands patting at his thighs, but fast enough that he could never tell where they were coming from. Someone with large, warm hands grabbed his ass and squeezed hard enough to make him jump; when he turned, someone ghosted a hand across his cock, just enough to make him shiver. Then the chain pulled down and he had to get on his hands and knees, thankful the grass was soft against his bruised knees. 

Someone cried out nearby and he looked up. There was another man, naked as he was, with a dark metal collar around his neck. He, too, was on his hands and knees, but another man was spanking him with his hand, heavy blows right on the ass, which was mottled red and purple. People stood in a loose ring, some watching, some completely ignoring the — depravity. The naked man had tears on his cheeks, but his cock was hard between his legs and every time the clothed man hit him, he tilted his hips up into the blow. A woman saw Alstin looking and turned down to him.

"Did you want to go next?''

He shook his head, cheeks burning, and crawled as fast as he could. The chain slithered between flowers on the ground and he felt a spike of relief at seeing it, biting down on his tongue to suppress it. Merique was just as bad as all the others. Despite himself, he found himself hoping that he'd find Merique on the other end. At least being with Merique felt more — safe. At least if he listened to him or tried, it might even be easy. He crawled until he found the end of the chain, and Merique was there, as promised, Alstin's chain still bound to his wrist. Alstin breathed a little easier at the sight of it. 

For a moment he thought he had come full circle and was back in front of Pasis, but they were just in another corner, another niche of the great hall. He didn't remember it being so big when he'd first entered, but it seemed endless now, vines spiraling up the walls and disappearing into darkness, like there was no ceiling at all. 

"Put your hands behind your back," Merique said, mildly. Alstin balked, shuffling away. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said, before he could stop himself. Merique crouched in front of him and wiped at his face with the corner of his silky sleeve, his touch gentle enough to make Alstin flinch. 

"Tell you what?" Merique said. He pushed Alstin's hair back from his forehead and wiped the sweat away. His touch was perfunctory, but Alstin couldn't help leaning into it, turning his face up against Merique's palm. 

"That I — " he looked down, and drew breath. "That I wasn't doing a good job?" 

"I told you," Merique said. "All you have to do is ask for help. You didn't, so I thought you knew." 

"I — "

Merique stood. "Put your hands behind your back." His tone was commanding and Alstin obeyed purely from the sound of it. It was instinctual, crossing his arms behind his back so Merique could loop the chain around his wrists up to his biceps and pull it tight enough that Alstin could feel each link pressing into his skin. "You'll get another chance to prove yourself."

"With you?"

"Not unless you'd prefer," Merique said. He looked up beyond Alstin and nodded. Someone grabbed him from behind and pushed him down onto the ground, a hot body covering his. He cried out and tried to struggle, but there was no leverage. The man behind him held him fast — and it was unmistakably a man, all hard muscle and the biggest cock he'd ever conceived of nudging at his ass. He couldn't breathe, pressed into the ground, his lips inches from the tip of Merique's shoe, as Merique looked down on him with an unimpressed eye. "I thought you wanted to do better," he said. The man behind Alstin grabbed his hips, pulling him down to align him, the dry tip of his cock nudging against his hole. 

"No," Alstin said, and tried to wriggle away. The man grunted and pulled back to slap his ass, hard enough that it felt like it left a mark. Alstin shrieked, but there was no moving away from the man's iron grip. 

"Alstin," Merique said, still looking down on him. "Did you forget our agreement."

"The trial," Alstin said, voice cracking. 

"Not that," Merique said, with patience. "What we just talked about. Just now."

Alstin gasped as the man pressed harder against him, his hips knocking into Alstin's ass hard enough to bruise, tears springing to his eyes. Merique knelt again and tipped his chin up, one of his fingers tracing the trail of water down his cheek. "Alstin," he said. "Ask me for help."

"What?"

"Ask me for help," Merique said, carefully enunciating, like Alstin was stupid. And he was stupid, still trying to move, looking up through glassy eyes at Merique, who was all sharp angles and dark hair, mouth serious. 

"Help me," Alstin said, and it came out slurred, tongue thick in his mouth. The man behind him stilled, and Merique waved him away, leaving Alstin's back cold and his body feeling weightless, no longer pinned down to earth. He drifted for what felt like minutes, Merique standing there watching him, and it was like coming to the realisation that he was naked in front of him. He could feel Merique's gaze like a physical tracery, working his way down across his back and onto his ass. "Don't make it hurt."

"If I hurt you," Merique said, quietly. "It will be because I know you will like it." He knelt by Alstin's head and ran his fingers gently through his hair. "I'm surprised you chose your brother to fuck you," he said. "Doesn't that strike you as more depraved than a stranger?" 

Alstin turned his face down into the grass, which was damp and cool against his skin. He couldn't consider it. It seemed so straightforward. He had to follow the law. He had to do as Merique said to pass his trial. It shouldn't matter — none of it would matter when he was on the throne with his mother at his side. Merique would be somewhere in the dungeons, in the dark, and alone.

But it didn't seem like that. The soft scratch of Merique's fingers against his scalp felt good. Alstin wanted to lean into that touch, wriggling forward until he could push his face into Merique's thigh. Merique chuckled, and his hand stilled. "Tell me what you want."

"To be king." 

That made Merique laugh, and it must have been the wrong answer, because his hand tightened in Alstin's hair and turned his face up. "What do you want me to do to you?"

"I don't know," Alstin said, and his heart began to thump hard again. "Whatever you want."

"It won't be that easy, I'm afraid," Merique said. His tone turned stern. "I want you to tell me what you want — what you've always wanted."

"I don't know what you mean," Alstin said. Merique hummed and pushed him over onto his back, the grass tickling gently at his sides. 

"You do," he said. "I'm sure there's some chambermaid you've thought about at night, in the dark." He reached down and rubbed his thumb over Alstin's nipple, which hardened under his touch. The pressure sent a little thrill down into Alstin’s stomach. It made him want to push up into it. It made him want to clench his muscles and roll away. "No? No stableboy with an ass made for fucking?" He moved away from Alstin and then came back and straddled him, his thighs bracketing Alstin's hips, his ass pressing down against Alstin's cock. "Did you play with yourself and think about that?"

"It wasn't — " And it wasn't true, but Merique's words and his mocking tone were making him feel warm all over, his cock growing hard against the firmness of Merique’s ass, regardless of how he tried to deny it. "I don't know how you think it was," he said, and his voice sounded wet and small. "It was just me and mother."

"Oh, dear," Merique said, and then he started to laugh, a pitying, mocking laugh that made his body shake. "That's no way for a boy to grow up. But it's also no excuse not to give me an answer. If I told you to bring yourself off now, what would you think about?"

"I wouldn't — "

"Hush," Merique said, leaning forward to place his fingers over Alstin's lips. The pressure of his weight on Alstin’s arms, trapped beneath him, was growing unbearable. "You asked for my help, and I'm helping you."

"This is a trick," Alstin said, and Merique cocked his head. "There's no trial. You've made it up to do — to do _this_ to me." He strained forward and Merique pushed him back down just with his fingers. " _You_ never had to do this to someone."

"Didn't I?" Merique said. "You just had a taste of what I experienced. He wasn't nearly as nice to me as I am to you."

Alstin thought about the size of the man's cock, and how he had moved him without any regard. It wouldn't have been fucking, but _claiming_ , using Alstin's body for his own pleasure, and taking no notice if he gave any in return. How would Merique react to that? Looking up at him, his jeweled eyes reflecting the light, the languid relaxation in his body, Alstin didn't think he'd do anything but enjoy it. His cock was rising and he swallowed, trying to push down the feeling. Merique noticed, because of course he did, and put his hand, loosely, on the base of Alstin's throat, thumbing at the metal collar. "So I'm who you think about fucking? It's a little desperate, don't you think?" he said. 

"Please," Alstin said, and it came out as a whisper, passing his lips so softly he could barely tell if he had said it at all. "Let me go. You don't have to — we don't have to take after our father."

Merique stopped moving his hips and pushed his hand up against Alstin's throat, but didn't squeeze, just began running his fingers up and down the collar, stroking the exposed skin above and below. Alstin went still, caught in his vulnerability. But Merique didn't move to choke or cut him, just leaned closer until Alstin could no longer look away. "Our father?" he said.

"The king," Alstin said. "The dead king."

"Yes," Merique said. "I know who _my_ father is, but yours? I'm afraid to say I've never had the pleasure."

"I'm the son of of the king," Alstin said. 

"Is that what she told you?"

"I have royal blood, he took her by force — "

"Is that what Mother told you?" Merique said. "Didn't you ever wonder why you don't look like him? Like me?" Alstin turned his face away, and Merique turned him back, eyes glittering. "Did she tell you to take the throne? Or did she make you and grow you into a man just for me?"

"No," Alstin said, and he could feel hot tears slipping down his cheeks. "I'm here — "

"I think you're a gift," Merique said, and kissed him, hard, forcing his mouth open with his insistent tongue, which pushed inside and curled and slid around Alstin's until he had no choice but to accept it. Merique seemed to be trying to taste every part of his mouth, his lips and teeth, then biting at his lips until his mouth felt raw and wet, up and down his neck and collarbone until his skin was abraded and dark with bruises, each one of them contributing to the slow, dark throb that was running under his skin. "She knows how I am with brothers." He pulled Alstin up and freed his arms, pulling them around him, his hips grinding against Alstin's cock as he pulled the chain away. Alstin leaned his head against Merique's chest and tried to stop the little hiccups that were escaping his throat.

"Don't cry," Merique said. "I think you'll be very happy here." He wiped Alstin's face dry and produced a flask from his sleeve, filling his mouth with dark wine. He bent his head and pressed his lips to Alstin's, flooding his mouth with fetid liquid. He almost choked, but the wine curled its way down his throat, settling in his stomach. The taste lingered in his mouth, changing to cherry and apple, and he found himself licking at Merique's lips just to try and find a drop of it in the divot of his lips. 

The sweetmint smell became overwhelming, his head lolling back on his shoulders, and Merique pushed him down again, leaning back to strip off his shirt and pants, the lean length of his body making Alstin's mouth water, despite the fact that he had never wanted — he still didn't want — but it didn't matter. With the wine in his mouth and the herbs swirling around his mind, nothing mattered except the sparks that each of Merique's touches were striking off his skin. He could hardly keep track of where he was being touched, feeling fingers on his nipples, his balls, grasping at his cock, tilting his hips up. The touches were soft and gentle, and he knew, somewhere, that he was meant to be pushing them away. 

When he had the strength to open his eyes, Merique was watching him as his hand stroked at Alstin's inner thigh, and he was struck by the memory of how he had made Pasis come, his cock jerking against his stomach at the thought, releasing a gush of fluid against his own flesh. Merique dragged his hands through it and lifted them to his mouth, licking them in turn, always maintaining contact, always touching Alstin in some gentle way to make him shiver. 

He could look as much as he wanted, and it took him a few rabbit-scared glances down to fix his eyes on Merique's cock, which was hard and thick, wet at the tip and red like he had been hard all night. Then Merique’s fingers were rubbing over Alstin's hole, and he moaned, high and shocked. He had expected it to hurt, but the wine in his stomach was warming him until he felt feverish, sweating lightly. It wasn't supposed to feel good. Somewhere, distantly, he wanted it to hurt but Merique was making it good, just rubbing, tracing around the rim of his hole until Alstin was tilting his hips up, pushing down.

Merique's fingers vanished and came back wet, slowly breaching him. Then it did hurt, but it was like the bruises on his flesh, an ache that felt deep and blunt, an inexorable pressure that he could only submit to, because it didn't matter what he wanted. "I think," Merique said, and paused, and Alstin wept, quietly, because without the tips of Merique's fingers inside him he had begun to feel _empty_ in a way he never had before. "I want to say you'll think about this when you touch yourself, but it'll only be me touching you. Of course, if I'm busy, you can go to Pasis or any other of your brothers." Before Alstin could think about what he had said, he was leaning forward, aligning and pushing in. Alstin had barely been stretched and he cried out, Merique kissing his lips until he was silenced.

"You feel so good," Merique said, and kissed at the juncture of his jaw and neck until Alstin stopped keening, licking over his pulse point, his cock pressing in hot and wet, and Alstin could feel every thick inch of it stretching him, pushing into him like Alstin's body belonged to Merique — and the collar around his neck proved that it did. "I knew you would feel like this when I saw you. I don't know why you made me run around. We could have started like this. You could have sat on my lap in the throne and looked down. Everyone would have been wishing they were you." 

He thrust in, then, pushing until his hips were pressed into Alstin's, his legs hitched up almost to their limit, the back of his thighs burning, but it all felt good, Merique's cock pressed snug up against something inside him that felt overwhelming, waves of pleasure rolling over him, his cock so hard it hurt, but it all fed into each other until he couldn't think, his mouth wet, eyes glazed. 

Merique started to thrust, slow, each stroke punctuated with a slight twist of his hips, making sure it he hit that spot inside Alstin that made him gasp and jerk, each movement forcing more liquid out to pool on his belly, Merique looking down on him with some deep emotion Alstin couldn't understand on his face. "She kept you too long," he said. "She should have sent you to me the day you became a man. I would have fucked you then, and you'd be used to it. You could take anyone by now. Maybe me and Pasis. I think you'd beg for it, too, if there was ever a second you weren't being filled up."

Alstin tried to hold back, but he could tell he was close to coming, balls drawn up tight, cock so hard it almost hurt. No matter how hard he tried to resist. Merique was right. Now that he thought back, memories clarified by smoke and mint, he had never lied. Merique was the one who had never lied to Alstin. He had always been honest. 

"Do you want to come?" Merique said, looking down at him. Merique had always been right, and he was backed by his title. If Alstin couldn't be king, wouldn't this be the closest he could come? Couldn't it be enough?

"Yes," he said. Merique's steady thrusts made Alstin feel like Merique was unaffected. He wanted to be better — he could be better than he had been with Pasis. He tried to squeeze down on Merique and was rewarded with a gasp, Merique's hands tightening on his hips until he knew he would have bruises. It would be a badge of honour, here, to have the king's marks upon his flesh. "Tell me what to do," Alstin said.

"Why?" Merique said. "You were made for this." He hitched Alstin's hips higher and pushed into him harder, the wet slide unbearable, never letting Alstin catch his breath, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. "You already know what to do."

"I can't," he said. It was too much. It was all too much, until the pleasure was so overwhelming he couldn't tell what felt good any more, Merique forcing him to keep eye contact. 

"Do you want me to help you?" Merique said.

"Yes," Alstin groaned. He was beginning to feel open, loose, like Merique was changing him the way he wanted, and his hole would always be ready for Merique, or whoever Merique chose for him. Merique touched the collar and it flared with heat and light, the scent of sweetmint and damp earth becoming unbearable until the magic rushed into his body, the slight brush of Merique's fingers against the head of his cock enough to bring him off, come spilling out of his cock, shooting up to adorn the collar itself, which hummed with power against his skin until he felt like he was coming again, his entire body suffused with it, his cock twitching, soft as Merique began to come inside him, and he could feel it, the wetness of his seed spilling into him and it felt _right_ , like it was filling a need he had never known he had.

*

It took a long time before he could think again, lying on the grass with Merique's come wet and leaking from his hole. Alstin was trembling with it, his muscles jumping with the memory of pleasure. Merique was gone. He could tell he was alone only because he wasn't being touched, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was sunlight streaming in the window, hitting the dirt not far from his face. The walls were dusky with age and crawling with dead ivy, and as he tried to stand, leaves crumbled to dust under his hands and knees. He could feel the thing on the throne watching him without looking up, so he kept his eyes low and crawled until the stone steps stopped him. Then he did look up, but away, trying to only look at the day-thing from the corner of his eye.

"Don't be shy now," the thing said, with Merique's voice. "Come here."

He obeyed, because he had to, because the chain on his neck demanded it, still connected to the thing's wrist. It reeled him in until his head leaned against its thigh; it smelled like rot and bone, and it rested its hand on the back of his head. He couldn't stop his mouth getting wet just from that simple touch, and closed his eyes.

"It'll be dusk again before you know it," the day-thing said. "You might have failed your trial, but you can try again," it said, in Merique's voice. "You can try every single night."


End file.
